


Hush

by orphan_account



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Cain is a baby, Fluff, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 11:17:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cain/Abel domestic fluff and sickfic</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hush

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Royal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Royal/gifts).



> This is ridiculous :O

Ethan had almost made it out the door— _almost_ —when he heard the call from behind him.

"Abel!  _Abel!_ " There was a short pause, and then a crash; something breaking against a wall. Ethan winced, then sighed, dropped his bag to the ground and walked back through the apartment to the bedroom.

He entered just in time to duck as a box of tissues sailed over his head and hit the open door.

"Oh," Cain said from the bed, sitting up. "Good, you're still here."

Ethan straightened and smoothed down his shirt, glaring. "What is it?" he said, eyeing the remains of his clock radio on the ground by the doorway as he stepped cautiously into the room.

"I'm hungry," Cain said, tipping his head back against the headboard and looking at Ethan with heavy eyes. "I need you to make me something."

"Cain…" Ethan glanced down at his watch. "I can't, I'm going to be late for work, I can't—"

"Abel," Cain said, voice sharp. He didn't get any farther than that, though because suddenly he started to hack, doubling over and coughing into his lap.

Ethan just watched until suddenly Cain was snapping his fingers, gesturing in Ethan's direction—or more specifically, gesturing toward the discarded tissue box that he had thrown. Ethan sighed and picked up the box, walking to the bed and holding it out to Cain. He grabbed the box and pulled a handful of tissues free, hacking and blowing his nose into them before dropping them to the bed around him, where more tissues lay used and discarded.

Ethan thought briefly about burning the covers before he had to sleep there again.

"I'm sick," Cain said.

Ethan frowned. "I've noticed, but Cain, I have to go to work, I can't be late, my boss—"

"Your boss is an asshole," Cain said, eyes narrowing. The irritated look wasn't nearly as threatening combined with his red, running nose and disheveled hair.

"He's still my boss," Ethan said, starting to turn away, "and he said that if I'm late again—"

"Your ass looks good in those pants," Cain muttered, interrupting again, eyelids lowering. "And at least fucking kiss me goodbye if you're just going to leave me here alone all day."

Ethan flushed, leaned down over Cain's huddled form on the bed. Cain pursed his lips and turned his face to the side, presenting his cheek. Ethan had barely brushed his lips against the overheated skin when suddenly Cain's hand was on his neck, Cain's face turning, lips catching at Ethan's and hot tongue pushing into his mouth.

He tasted disgusting; sour and stale and dirty. Ethan struggled, didn't manage to break away until Cain's attention was diverted by running both hands down over Ethan's ass and gripping tight.

"Ugh, Cain," he said, turning toward the dresser and picking up the bottle of mouthwash there. He swigged, ducked his head into the bathroom and spat into the sink while Cain sniggered.

When his laughing led to another coughing fit a moment later, Ethan couldn't find it in himself to feel bad, so he just gave Cain a little wave as he left. Cain flipped him off, but then he was coughing again, tears and snot streaming down his face, and Ethan slipped out the door.

#

He was still late to the office—had to stay late in order to make up for time lost, so by the time Ethan got back, he was exhausted and cranky and not looking forward to dealing with Cain and his neediness.

The apartment was silent when Ethan entered; no sound of the television in the bedroom or Cain complaining. He dropped his bag by the door, kept his shoes on as he walked toward the bedroom. The bed was empty; blankets pulled back and rumpled, little indentation in the mattress where Cain had been cocooned. There were still tissues littered all over the dark coverlet and cascading onto the floor.

Ethan opened his mouth, about to call out, when he heard the unmistakable sound of retching from the bathroom. He turned and hurried to the open door, crouching down beside Cain, who was huddled in front of the toilet and puking.

"Oh my god," Ethan said, brushing Cain's hair back from his face with one hand, reaching up to flush the toilet with the other. "What happened? What's wrong?"

"Sick," Cain mumbled, resting his cheek against the toilet bowl and blinking slowly.

"I know you are," Ethan said, pressing the back of his hand against Cain's forehead and trying to gauge his temperature; he was overheated, but not burning up. "But you weren't this sick when I left."

Cain just groaned, found Ethan's free hand and hauled him forward. Ethan stumbled, raised himself a bit so he managed to fall back onto the toilet in front of Cain instead of running into it headlong. He shifted, tried to get down again so Cain would throw up in the toilet instead of on him, but Cain wasn't having it; scooted up closer and wrapped his arms around Ethan's back, dragging him nearer and rubbing his nose against Ethan's belly.

"Cain?" Ethan asked, sank both hands into Cain's hair when he pulled Ethan's shirt free of his pants and started to mouth at the skin near his bellybutton.

Cain said something; voice slurred and incoherent. Ethan frowned. "What?"

He broke away from Ethan's stomach and tipped his head back, looking at Ethan with glassy eyes. "It's  _Sacha_ ," he said.

Ethan was distracted, however, realizing with the blown pupils and strong breath that Cain— _Sacha_ —wasn't puking because he was sick. "Are you  _drunk_?"

Cain snorted, little line of snot dribbling out of his nose in the process before he swiped at it with the back of his hand. "I was bored." He paused, then added,  _"and sick,"_  as though Ethan had managed to forget, even with him not-so-surreptitiously wiping his soiled hand against Ethan's nice slacks.

"You shouldn't drink when you're sick," Ethan said, trying to sound stern and not quite managing it with Cain ducking down and sucking at his abdomen again.

"Why not?" Cain asked, teeth scraping hard over Ethan's navel, making him catch his breath. "Nothing else to do, but now that you're here…"

He trailed off, the hands behind Ethan's back snaking down and trying to slip down the back of his pants. Cain was clumsy, though, too drunk even to manage that simple feat. Ethan let him struggle for a few moments, breath growing quicker with annoyance, before finally he sagged against Ethan's front. His head ended up nestled in Ethan's crotch, his hot breath soaking through the fabric at Ethan's thigh, his eyes slipping shut.

"I feel like shit," he said, and his hands started to grope at Ethan again; not to make a move, but to bring him closer. Ethan obliged; shuffling forward on the toilet seat until he was about to fall off, running his fingers through Cain's hair; his head cradled in Ethan's lap.

"You shouldn't have been drinking," Ethan couldn't help repeating, tried to keep his tone gentle.

Cain groaned again. "I'm tired."

Ethan licked his lips, glanced around at their tiny, dingy bathroom before returning his gaze to Cain. "Do you want me to leave?"

Cain shook his head, then stopped abruptly, a frown creasing his face. "I want to go to bed," he said.

Ethan nodded, more to fortify himself than to acknowledge Cain's request. He pushed back at Cain's shoulders, couldn't help but laugh when Cain practically slithered off him, collapsing into a huddled pile on the floor, his eyes still shut.

"Come on." Ethan stood up, grabbed Cain by both wrists and pulled. At some point during his drunken escapade, Cain had lost his shirt, so his naked torso just stretched and strained against Ethan's weight as he tried to drag Cain to his feet.

After a few moments, however, it seemed Cain clearly didn't plan on helping. "Cain," he said, was about to go on when Cain suddenly made an annoyed noise. His head was tipped back, eyes closed, hanging limply from Ethan's grip on his upraised arms.

 _"Sacha,"_  Ethan amended, and he seemed placated. "You need to help. Do you want me to drag you to the bedroom?"

Cain only groaned again, so Ethan pulled, leaned all his weight back and dragged Cain out of the room. It wasn't until he reached the carpet in the bedroom that Cain started to complain, grunting and muttering under his breath, twisting in Ethan's grip. Ethan dropped his arms once they'd reached the side of the bed, looking down at Cain's prone figure and panting.

Cain sighed and rolled onto his side, curling into a ball and then slowly getting to his feet, leaning heavily against the bed. At one point Ethan stepped forward to help, but Cain batted him off, glaring, and Ethan stepped back again, content to watch Cain fumble his way into the bed.

When he was finally settled, Ethan brushed a few of the used tissues onto the floor and pulled the covers up around Cain's shoulders. He made to pull back, but suddenly Cain reached out and gripped his hand with surprising dexterity, leaning up at the same moment to plant a sloppy kiss against Ethan's mouth.

He tasted like puke and booze and illness, and Ethan could only handle it for a brief moment before he had to pull back in earnest, trying to keep the disgust off his face.

Cain growled, tightened his grip, and said, "Come here."

Ethan coughed, not in the mood to have Cain try to fuck him when he couldn't even walk a straight line. "I'm hungry," he said. "I'll be back in a minute."

Cain gave him a hard look and then sagged back into the bed, his grip on Ethan's hand loosening. Ethan turned, ignored Cain's hand trailing over his ass in the moment before he walked out of reach, and headed to the door.

He was just about to exit into the hallway when Cain said, "Abel." He turned back at the same moment that Cain frowned against the pillows and said, " _Ethan_."

"What?" Ethan asked, surprised at Cain's voluntary use of his real name since he always tended to avoid it, or say it with such disgust, as though he couldn't stand the idea that Ethan had ever been anyone other than Abel.

Cain frowned, looking hazy and uncertain and angry, but when his eyes met Ethan's, his gaze was surprisingly steady. Ethan waited, one hand on the doorknob, watching Cain think. Eventually, Cain just muttered, "Never mind," his angry scowl back. He sank back into the covers and bounced around, curling away from the doorway.

Ethan blinked and exited, turning the light off and closing the door behind him. He frowned as he ate his dinner, kicking off his shoes and sitting back on the couch with a carton of leftover Chinese, peering blankly at the television screen. He was still frowning when he finished and was cleaning up, wiping down the countertops for the night.

He found himself throwing glances at the bedroom door, couldn't stop his eyes from straying there every few seconds, wondering what Cain had been going to say. He was just about to enter the bedroom when Ethan found himself flushing; sudden, unexpected heat suffusing his cheeks because maybe Cain hadn't said it out loud, but Ethan had a feeling he knew what he was going to say, anyway.


End file.
